


Gather 'Round the Bonefire

by sansybones, withtheworms



Series: Rehab Cabin DLC [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, PTSD Sans, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Rehab cabin, grillby and sans are exes, grillby is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansybones/pseuds/sansybones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/withtheworms/pseuds/withtheworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Rehab Cabin Fic by @Sansybones </p><p>Summary: The monsters have all escaped the underground and made new lives for themselves, but some things don’t get as easily left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which a Stranger Appears

The cabin was cuter than he expected. A friendly plume of smoke billowed from the chimney, and the wooden siding looked aged, but kept in good repair. The very picture of peaceful solitude, and it reminded him of their home back in Snowdin. All that was missing were holiday lights.

It felt isolated-- all nearby buildings and roads were camouflaged by the tall trees that seemed to stretch on forever in every direction, but it hadn't actually been too hard to access. Mt. Ebbott loomed in the distance... an odd choice, given how painful the memory of that place was for most monsters, but one that he was sure was made with careful deliberation.

He wasn't sure this was a good idea.

In fact, he _knew_ it wasn't, but when he'd heard he just couldn't stop himself. He had to see him. _He had to know_. Now faced with the cabin's door (nested comfortably inside a charming porch) he felt...foolish. What did he expect to achieve here, really? He'd felt so certain when he had first set off, but now all he could feel was the glaring mismatch between the rustic cabin porch decor and his immaculately tailored charcoal ensemble.

He was a fool. Yes.

But hadn't he always been a fool for Sans?

He gathered his courage and rapped solidly on the door. The wait felt eternal... a rustling commotion within the cabin walls, echoes of a voice he still remembered so well, inching closer to the door and--

The door flew open.  

-

Sans' face fell in shock the second he laid eyes on Grillby. A moment later it cracked into an impossibly wide grin. _Grillby._ Had he always been this tall? His flames added an easy extra foot to his stature as they flickered gently above him. He stood casually in his doorway, hands in his pockets, like he owned the place. Sans glossed over the remaining details: it was _Grillby_. Grillby was here. _Here_.  

-

Sans was older. There wasn't much to mark it, but he was definitely older. He was wrapped in sturdy clothing - a heavy flannel jacket, a wool toque and thick cargo shorts -- _who let him wear cargo shorts?_ \-- but the core of him was the same as always. The same solid posture; the same easy, casual demeanor; all of him round and short and very _Sans_.  How long had they stood there staring at each other?

"Hi," Grillby offered, his voice crackling involuntarily at the edges. 

"Who's at the door?" Papyrus came clambering down the stairs to meet the unexpected visitor, but moment he came into view Papyrus' face fell. " _...oh._ "


	2. In Which Time Keeps Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...gets you every time.

"It's Grillby!" Sans turned to his brother and beamed. "GRILLBY!!"

Saying it out loud made it feel more real. Sans turned back to face the fire, whose glow still brightened the doorway. He backed away and spread his arms, welcoming him in for a hug. Grillby's cheeks scrunched up in a smile, all of his doubts washing away as he dropped to one knee to take his short friend's embrace. Sans was laughing, and Grillby held him tighter, feeling his bony frame through the thick jacket. He held on maybe a little too long, but he broke when he noticed Papyrus' withering glare. 

"Well, c'mon, come in dude!!" Sans practically hauled the fire man inside.

Grillby took in the cabin's interior while Sans bustled around excitedly. It was warm inside, comfortable. The furnishings were simple, but homely - worn wooden chairs with patchwork cushions gathered around a scuffed kitchen table. The kitchen was clean and organized, with outdated fixtures in an odd rust coloured enamel. Sunlight streamed in over the sink past lace curtains and made the whole scene seem like some domestic paradise from a past Sans never had. A staircase beside Grillby led to some unknown upper floor, and behind him was a quiet sitting room, but it seemed like the type of place where kitchen table was the center of activity. The cabin itself was small and didn't seem to comprise much more than what he could see before him.

Nevertheless, it seemed like space enough for the brothers. It wasn't until the front door shut that Grillby realized Papyrus had slipped noiselessly behind him. He stood with his arms crossed and though he kept quiet, Grillby knew he was disappointed. The two had never really seen eye to eye. 

Sans gestured nervously to the cupboards, "Can I getcha... uh, well we keep it pretty basic I guess. Juice? Tea?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Grillby lifted a hand to try and calm the skeleton, but Sans filled the kettle anyway, seeming to need something to do with his energy. He lit the gas burner and stopped for a moment, as if he could accelerate himself through the formalities by just staring at the kettle hard enough.

"Man, I'm so-- wow!" Sans chuckled, and spun to face him. "It's so good to see you, dude, I feel like I haven't seen you in months, it musta' been... maybe..."   
Sans' smile faded and he glanced at the floor, concentrating. He looked a bit lost as he glanced nervously to Papyrus, who was leaning quietly against the wall.

"Six years," Papyrus' reply was almost a whisper. "It's been six years, Sans."  
Sans' face fell. He'd come to realize how quickly time can pass when it's only moving in one direction, but it was still something he struggled to account for. Could it really be true? Six years since the exodus from the underground and this strange new life had started? Six years since...

Grillby's flames seemed to shrink under Sans' pleading gaze. "I should have called," Grillby offered, helplessly. "I guess with all the excitement and new things to experience up here... getting used to everything I just--"

"Nah, nah it's--" Sans shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched over, continuing to avoid the pitying expression he'd come to know too well. He shrugged. "We all lose track." 


	3. In Which the Premises are Surveyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this originally for tumblr and kept it short and snappy and I'm realizing now how short these are by AO3 standards. Uh. Sorry. This is kind of a mirroring dump. Don't yell at me!

Steam rose from the mug and billowed gently in the autumn air. Sans had shoved the tea into Grillby's hands before he could reiterate that he didn't want any, and given the shock his arrival seemed to have caused, he didn't want to press the issue. His hands maintained it at a steady temperature as he carried it around the property, listening intently as Sans carried out his tour.

_Yes there's power, yes there's internet. It's isolated but they're not roughing it. Really you'd be surprised how good satellite is these days. Over there is a stream that leads to a pond, there are deer in the woods and rabbits in the fields..._

And so on.  Simple details but Sans reveled in every one. Slowly his choice to leave the city and all the other monsters began to seem less _crazy_ , and it surprised Grillby how well-suited Sans really was for a quiet life in the mountains. 

"You make it sound so idyllic," Grillby sighed, "You really don't miss the city at all?"

"Heh, I'm not _heartless_ , dude... of course I miss it! Well, the people, anyway... Tori an' Frisk, Alphys, Undyne... heck I even miss Bugerpants! Heheh... I think about 'em a lot, but..."

Sans got quiet for a moment. They'd absently wandered to the top of a small hill. The cabin seemed even smaller from this vantage point just slightly above, and the distance to anywhere so much larger. The distance between them now felt like a canyon.

"I don't miss the noise," the light in Sans' eyes grew dim. "The activity... it was a lot for me. Everyone's trying to do as much as possible all the time, I just wanted to _chill_." 

Sans sighed and waved his hand vaguely, "Skeletons, yanno... we didn't have as easy a time out there. Monsters are one thing, but when a human sees a human skeleton walking around.... Well, I got tired of playin' twenty questions every time I went out to get milk, feel me? heheh... yeah, I guess the city's where the action's at but I don't really need it."

Grillby watched his friend quietly as they studied the horizon. Grillby couldn't remember when Sans would be so direct... even with him. Out here, it seemed, he was finally freed from his need to maintain the joker's mask.  Though he'd always been vying for the title of "most laid back" underground, there was a difference between being _whatever_ about your situation and being _okay_ with it. Now, out here, away from everything... Sans seemed _okay_ with this.

"Nah..." Sans quietly reaffirmed to himself, as if he'd just run the numbers again and achieved the same result. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back gently, basking in the evening breeze. "All I need's the _sky._ "


	4. In Which the Garden is Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gardens!

They circled the property, arriving at an expansive garden behind the cabin. Neat rows of vegetables flourished and almost seemed to wave hello as they were stirred by the wind. 

"Wow," Grillby exhaled, as he just stopped himself from touching an expansive pumpkin leaf that stretched over the boundaries of the garden plot. "Beautiful."

"Heh, thanks. Tomatoes've been comin' in well this season. Zucchini needs a bit more coaxin', but--" Sans cut himself short and he bounded into the garden, dodging various plantlings with an effortless grace only familiarity can provide. He snatched the newborn dandelion from its hiding place, ripping out its roots and launching it far out of the garden's boundaries. He walked casually back towards Grilby, brushing the soil off his hands. "We'll probably do a last harvest in...er... soonish."

"Wait," Grillby slowly pieced the information together, "...this is _your_ garden?"

"Yep, heheh," Sans stood in the center of the plot, framed by vegetation on every side, as if it were his nest. Grillby was suddenly impressed with the garden's size, scope and sheer... _aliveness_. It must have taken a level of care that he never would have expected from the lazy skeleton who used to darken his doorway for a greasy meal four times daily. His shock was not well camouflaged, and Sans chuckled, waving away Grillby's disbelief as he walked to the garden's edge, "I know, I know..."

"It was Tori's idea, actually," Sans turned to look over the whole expansive plot, taking it in anew. He imagined it as Grillby must have been seeing it, and he couldn't stop the small twinge of pride welling up between his ribs. "She thought it would help, bein' able to see a, uh... _progression_ I guess."

"A progression of what?" Grillby asked. Sans' face set as he realized his mistake. 

"Nothin' just... progress."


	5. In Which Dinner is Eaten and Secrets are Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts gettin’ fun (for me) :)

"Yeah, it's nice," Grillby gestured as he spoke, the flames on his fingertips flickering with every flourish, "The bar is right in the heart of the city so there's good traffic any day of the week. Of course, we're more of a destination bar these days, so we need to deal with crowd management more than anything else. Last weekend the wait was over an hour."

Sans had insisted that Grillby stay for dinner, and at first he had refused. Eventually his better judgement was overridden by that impossible skeleton grin (just like old times). Papyrus had prepared a hearty vegetarian lasagna from Sans' garden bounty and Grillby was forced to admit that Papyrus' cooking had dramatically improved over the years. (Although... it still did need a bit more oregano.)

"That's awesome, Grillbz! Hehe, what's the major attraction, anyway?" Sans leaned into the conversation as he shoveled the lasagna back. 

Grillby's cheeks grew hotter, "Well... _I'm_ the attraction, I suppose." 

"Really?" Sans didn't even notice his brother's eyeroll (but Grillby did), "Why whaddya... do bar tricks? Dance? Heheh, gimme a clue."

"Bar tricks, yes, " Grillby grinned sheepishly, "but what can I say, I guess I just bring a certain _flare_ to the service."

"Heheh, yeah I bet you're a real _hot_ commodity," Sans winked.  "So it's no problem, you bein' a fire monster?"

"No, no, if anything I've come to learn that there's a niche market for _anything_ in the human world," Grillby winked back.

"Even dudes made entirely of fire?" Sans was beaming, enamoured.

" _Especially_ dudes made entirely of fire," Grillby crackled, eliciting a knowing chuckle from his skeleton friend. 

"Why. Are. You. _Here_." Papyrus put his fork down with a loud clak and stared directly into Grillby's eyes. The table fell silent, and Sans shot his brother a stern glare, his cheeks deepening in a horrified blush of embarrassment.

Grillby swallowed. "I heard-- well, that is--"

Both skeletons watched him expectantly. Grillby folded his napkin nervously in his lap. 

"They say... while we were all underground, that you were caught in some kind of... _time loop_? The same few weeks repeating over and over?" Grillby stammered a bit over the admission, his confidence from moments prior heartlessly abandoning him as he struggled to articulate their secret. It was whispered constantly among the other monsters, behind the skeletons' backs, far beyond the trees. He didn't know whether anyone had ever dared to drag it back to them.

"R e s e t s." Sans' eyes had gone dark again, his hollow stare aimed at some unknown mark in the center of the kitchen table. Papyrus was monitoring him closely. 

"Who told you about resets?" Papyrus asked, plainly. 

Grillby spoke slowly, choosing every word with care. "Word gets around in... our community. You left, people noticed. People talk. For a long time there were only nonsense rumours. I didn't believe any of it. Eventually, enough pieces of the real truth escaped and got put together, and when I heard about _that_..."

Sans looked up sadly, exposed. His tragedy unearthed. Once again. Grillby's heart crumbled in guilt.

"I-- I wanted to see you," Grillby avoided the gaze of both skeletons. "If it was _true_ , I wanted to _see_. I guess... to see if you were alright?"

Grillby dared to glance up to find that Papyrus had pinned him with a stern expression. Sans was still carefully studying the unknown mark. Grillby jumped at the abrupt noise of Sans pushing away from the table. The skeleton said nothing as he opened the cabin door and slid into the cloak of night.

Grillby and Papyrus sat in silence. Papyrus eventually returned to his meal, the clacking of silverware on the plate as deafening as a swordfight. 

"If he were _alright_ ," Papyrus stared at Grillby, lifting a bite to his mouth, " _Why would we be out here?_ "  
 _  
_


	6. In Which there are Garden Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I herd u liek kale

Darkness offers little defense from someone who brings their own firelight.

Sans was a bit better hidden where he lay among the broad reaching leaves of kale, but he was ultimately given away by the light of his own cigarette. He supposed he didn't mind. He was tired of hiding. _He'd been tired for so long_. 

Grillby slowly lowered himself to the ground beside Sans. He tried not to think about what the wet grass and dirt were doing to his tailored slacks and focused on not setting Sans' prized plants aflame. Sans was laying on his back, gazing at the stars that peeked through the leaves' silhouettes. When Grillby joined him, the undersides of the leaves were set aglow by his flickering light and it was just ... beautiful. _Damn it._ Sans wanted to close his eyes and pretend he was alone, but the right side of his face was already cooking and could not be ignored. He used to love basking in Grillby's warmth, but now that he knew about the Resets everything between them would change. And every single bloody change was _forever_.

He had one shot at this. _One shot at everything_. 

Sans took a long drag of the cigarette and forced the smoke out through his teeth. He could feel the remnants of the smoke crawl out of his eyesockets and he didn't shut his eyes to prevent it. He wished he could be like that smoke, he wished he could just drain away. Grillby reached over to take Sans' cigarette and pulled a casual drag of his own, exhaling calmly. 

He turned the cigarette over in his fingers before handing it back, "So you smoke now."

"Don't tell Paps," Sans shot the fire a warning glare and reclaimed his cig, taking a quick drag as if needing to reassert his ownership of it. 

"He doesn't know?" Grillby arched an eyebrow, extending it above the frame of his designer glasses.

" _He knows_ , he knows..." Sans sighed another plume of smoke away, watching as it bounced across the kale leaves, "he just doesn't know that _I know_ he knows. I figure he hates it less than other stuff I used to do, so he lets it slide. I don't wanna stir the pot."

Grillby gazed up at the stars. Underground, the sparkling rocks on the roof were a pale imitation. No monster had been prepared for the effect a real twinkling night sky would have on them. They lay for a moment, transfixed. 

"He gave it all up, you know. For me," Sans broke the silence. 

"Papyrus?"

"He took to the city like a duck to water. He loved it. Heh, I miss how excited he used to get over every little thing," Sans pulled the cigarette from his mouth so he could perform his best Paps impression. "SANS! DID YOU KNOW?? THEY SELL DRESSES IN EVERY SINGLE COLOUR AND SANS! OH MY GOSH! THAT CAR WAS GOING SO FAST, I DIDN'T EVEN THINK A CAR COULD GO THAT FAST! SANS DO YOU WANNA TRY FROYO TODAY??"

Grillby couldn't help but laugh, imagining the exuberant skeleton who had become so stern. Sans was grinning, a genuine grin, remembering the happier times. 

"Then... why would he leave? What changed?"

Sans pulled a little tin from his coat pocket. He stamped out the end of the cigarette and enclosed it inside with the rest of the evidence. Having secured his secret, he lit another. He offered one to Grillby, but he was refused. 

"Nothin'," Sans shrugged, "Well... everythin'. I figure that's the problem. Everything and everyone changed, and kept changin' all the time... except me. Alphys says I _adapted_ to Resets. I learned to survive, and yeah, I survived. I got pretty good at it, too. I got so good at it I couldn't adapt _back_ , that's all."

Grillby watched the smoke swirl overhead. It reminded him of when he used to listen to Sans back at the bar, back Underground. Before. "I guess I still don't understand."

Sans exhaled his smoke forcefully and rubbed his lower jaw, thoughts rattling in his skull as he struggled to find an analogy, a metaphor... _anything_. 

"Ok," he ventured, "Imagine you're having a bad day. Right? Your day sucks, you pissed off your friend, your quiche was ruined, you missed the riverboat-- total shitshow. Wouldn't anyone want a do-over? Sounds great, right? Ok, so imagine you got it, you got your do over. Rewind a week and you get to try it all again. This time you catch the boat, this time you say the right thing, and you think - 'cool. cool, I got this.' 

"Now imagine this _keeps_ happening to you. Same week -- same few weeks, over and over and over again. Sometimes things go different, like say there's a human who has the power to break the pattern, but for the most part you've seen it all before. You start to care less about your schedule, your screwups, your future hypotheticals. Why give a fuck about tomorrow? Why give a fuck about... _anything,_ really. You just _react_ to whatever's right in front of you, and you try not to get too worked up about it because good or bad -- _it's all gonna get Reset._ "

Sans paused to drag on his cigarette for a moment and Grillby lay quietly, troubled. 

"Great so now imagine that all ends," Sans continued. "You got so used to those couple'o weeks that you could play 'em like a _concerto_ and then it got all _jazz improv_ on ya. You got so good at _do-overs_ that you forgot what it's like to have _one shot_." 

Grillby noticed the slight tremor in Sans' hands as he balanced the cigarette. It had been burning a bit too long and threatened to ash over his sweater. Sans finally returned to himself enough to notice and he flicked the ash aside, pulling another drag down for good measure. 

"Every day was so _new_ in the city," it seemed painful for Sans to admit, "So many decisions to make every single day and... well I guess I made too many bad ones. Or not enough, or... I dunno. I was fine, I mean... by now I can roll with pretty much anything. But Paps... and the others," Sans shrugged, "I guess-- I was messing things up for them."

Sans poked at a kale leaf, pulling it down to inspect for signs of infestation. Grillby could tell by his tone that he was withholding... that it wasn't as straightforward as a few bad mistakes, but he was starting to understand what Papyrus meant. _Sans wasn't alright._  

"So Papyrus chose to help you, over life in the city," Grillby summarized. 

Sans turned his head to look at Grillby, "He doesn't hate you. Really. He takes good care of me out here and he's just gotten... protective. We're workin' at it, yanno? I think he's scared you're gonna set me back."

"And you?" Grillby's hair flickered gently as they lay side by side in the garden, "Are you scared?"

Sans smiled. 


	7. In Which They Meet a Deer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Shared Moment in the Forest

Sans and Grillby walked quietly through the forest. It was pitch black by then, but they had no problems navigating by Grillby's naturally emanating light. Sans led them down a narrow and sinuous path. After about twenty minutes, the trees parted to reveal a glistening pond, its surface a perfect mirror for the stars above. 

"This is Tori's favourite spot, when she comes to visit," Sans explained, leading Grillby over to a small collection of rocks that had been assembled as a seating area. A delicate mug sat abandoned on a sawed-off stump, covered in the leavings of the pines above and accumulating a thin layer of moss. Sans sat himself down on a stone and picked a pebble from the forest floor. He hucked it into the pond as Grillby tried to find comfort on the rocky seat beside him. 

"You and Toriel... there's rumours about that too," Grillby tried as best as he could to maintain a suave posture while balanced awkwardly on the slimy rock.

"Yeh," Sans chuckled, tossing another stone into the pond, "I bet."

"Sooooo, is it true? You and Toriel, are you...?" _play it cool, Grillby._

"Tori's special to me," Sans nodded, and his expression softened, "She's special. But Tori, she's got her own..." Sans made a vague gesture, but Grillby didn't really follow. "Anyway. Neither of us are really ready for a big _thing_ and neither of us are in any sort of rush. I miss her a lot. We talk, but when I get better I hope I can see her more."

The forest was so still that they could hear Grillby's hair as it crackled softly.   
"An' you?" Sans rested his elbows on his knees, his mission to throw every rock into the pond already abandoned. "How's..... uh......... where did Fuku end up, up here?"

"College, if you can believe it," Grillby folded his arms and leaned back. The idea still sent him reeling. "It's good, though. I get to see her much more than I used to. Heats still lives with Chaleur, but at least we're back on speaking terms now. Moving up here put a lot of things in perspective, I think. Honestly, it's better than it's ever been."

"Heh," Sans watched the gentle ripples on the pond extend out to its edges, "Changes, man. can't stop 'em."

Sans picked up another rock and started to fidget with it, "Who's the favourite regular at your new bar, then?"

Grillby snorted, "It's not really that kind of bar. I don't think I have a favourite regular."

"Yeah?" Sans hadn't realized he was anxious about it, but felt relieved at the answer. "No regular... anythin'?"

"No," Grillby smiled, "Nobody regular at all."

Sans' grin expanded, but a snapping twig made both monsters spin around defensively. Through the trees a lonely deer reacted to their sudden movement. They could barely make out its silhouette in the darkness. The monsters and the deer watched each other across the forest, and all was deathly still. The delicate creature studied the monsters suspiciously, not wanting to break their gaze until she was sure there was no threat to avoid in a man made of fire and another made of bone. Eventually she decided that it was all too strange to properly assess, and she continued to stalk quietly down the forest path. 

Grillby sighed and relaxed his posture. He detected a blue glow in his periphery and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Sans' eye flashing its magical cyan and yellow. He'd only seen it a few times, and was reminded that despite Sans' demeanor, he controlled a power greater than most could even fathom. _Sans. Always a mystery._  

"Heh. I guess it's running season," Sans offered as explanation. He closed his eyes and when they opened again the cyan was gone, replaced with the familiar faint white lights deep in his sockets. "Deer all over the place. They're all riled up. Guess fall really is comin', one way or another."

Sans shivered and rubbed his hands together in some futile attempt at generating friction. 

"Here," Grillby took Sans' hands in his own and held them gently, letting his natural warmth slowly seep into the monster's frigid bones. Sans sat quietly, watching his fingers as he slowly opened and closed his fists to warm them. Grillby watched them too, and was startled to notice a droplet hitting is palm and evaporating. 

Sans was crying. 

"S-sorry," Sans grinned but decided to leave his hands in Grillby's rather than pull one away to clear his eyesockets. They stayed that way for a few a more moments, not wanting to break the spell of the pond, the trees, the darkness...

"Why was this so hard for us, Grillby?" Sans finally whispered, furrowing his brow in concentration. He laced his fingers gently through the fire's and clasped them tightly. The words caught in his throat, "This was all I ever wanted."

Grillby was solemn. "It's hard to deal with your shit when you're mired in it."  
Sans nodded. 

The forest, at least this part of the forest near him, was warm. 


	8. In Which Papyrus Has a Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~The Next Day~

Papyrus busied himself with breakfast. That annoying dog was sniffing around his ankles, but lost interest the second he put the bowl of kibble on the ground. This was Sans' job, really, but he'd always been terrible at it. Anyway, Papyrus was always the first downstairs, so it inevitably became "his job" since the dog wouldn't leave him alone until it was sorted. And so, Papyrus supposed that this really was "his dog" --"his _annoying_ dog"-- even though the animal seemed to come and go as it pleased. 

How did this dog even find them after they had moved dozens of miles away? 

Having tamed the beast, he was just able to rescue the hollondaise before it split, and ladled it gently over the special eggs benedict he'd prepared to cheer Sans up. The next few days would be tricky. Disruption always made things tricky, and it was best to start things off on the right foot. 

Papyrus heard his brother's slippered feet padding softly down the stairs. He turned to see Sans buttoning up a clean shirt (good) but he hadn't layered a sweater over it yet. Maybe he felt rushed --he was a bit late. (Noticing he was late was good.) 

Sans slid through the kitchen and poked his head over the counter, grinning at the special breakfast. 

"Good morning, Brother!" Papyrus beamed. 

"Mornin'," Sans replied. He was hunting for something on the counter. "Hey uh... we got any coffee kickin' around?"

"Coffee?" Papyrus arched his brow-bone at the unusual request, "Why, is it for the garden? We might have some instant--"

Papyrus was halted suddenly by the noise of a second set of footsteps on the stairs. He turned with dread to find Grillby descending slowly, buttoning the sleeves on a burgundy shirt. On a second shirt. _The bastard brought a change of clothes_ , Papyrus realized immediately. _And he's wearing ... silk!?_

Grillby was pinned by Papyrus' scowl. Sweat rolled down Sans' temple as he looked from one to the other. 

***

The breakfast table was as silent as a sentencing. Had they been there for... ten minutes? Not a word had been breathed between them, and Grillby didn't _dare_. He had to give credit where it was due -- Papyrus was able to scramble a third breakfast in record time. There was an obvious presentation gap between Grillby's meal and those of the brothers' but honestly the fact that he hadn't been served kibble was exceeding his expectations. 

Clacking silverware punctuated the silence. 

Finally, Sans. "Papyrus, it's not--"

"IT'S FINE." Papyrus practically spat his reply. "IT'S-- _WHATEVER_."  
  



	9. In Which Grillby Is Kind Of Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Garden Work~~

Sans dragged his gloved fingers through the soil, wrapping them gently around the base of the zucchini plant. He stuck the pH probe in the dirt and scowled... it was still a bit too low. Hopefully in a few days he would know if it was making any impact at all. Paps had his heart set on zucchini bread and he didn't want to disappoint him. 

He sat back on his heels and sighed, examining the nascent vegetables that clung to the vines, and noting the emergence of a few new flowers. 

Grillby leaned against the shovel at the edge of the garden. He tried to stay outside of it as much as possible to reduce any fire risk. It made the process... a bit boring. In a _supremely_ awkward exchange, Papyrus had insisted that Sans should stick to his daily schedule regardless of who was visiting, and that if Grillby was so set on staying he ought to help. Papyrus had lent him some work overalls which, thanks to the width of Papyrus' hips and Grillby's somewhat malleable form, they had managed to make work. He had exchanged his silk button-down for one of Sans' older shirts. This one was emblazoned with the saying "WORK YARD, PLAY SARD." Grillby didn't really get it, but it was very Sans. (This getup made Sans as pleased as Grillby had been mortified.)

Sans had moved onto the peas, gently tugging at each ripening pod, and dropping the ready ones into a basket on the ground. It was... quaint, and it really warmed him to see Sans so invested in something. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a quick pic. He cradled the phone with Sans' picture and wondered whether he should post it. It was a nice photo, and other monsters would be interested, but would it be invading Sans' privacy? While he deliberated, he scrolled through his feed, noting any new likes and comments on his bar's promotional profile. 

After adding a new support tie to the tomatoes, Sans glanced up to find Grillby buried in his phone. "Wifi's better in the cabin," he remarked cooly.

Grillby reddened and slipped the phone back into the overall's front pocket. "Sorry. I just-- I feel a bit useless. I have no idea what you're doing."

"Heh," Sans strolled over to the parsley plants and was pleased to see them revived (they had been a bit wilted yesterday), "Nothin' really I guess. Just taking stock of everything, then I gotta water. Nothin' new to plant this late in the season. what is it, November?"

"No, it's September, still." Grillby leaned on the shovel absently and didn't notice that Sans' face had faltered when he realized he'd missed the mark.   
  
_September_. Sans chastised himself. _It's still September. Beginning of Fall, but still time in the season. Start winding down the garden. We planted these in the past, back in May. It's only going in one direction. September, September..._  
  
Grillby did notice Sans standing still in the garden, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nasal cavity in concentration. "Sans?" he called, waking the skeleton up from some complicated train of thought.   
  
"Heh, sorry. Tryin' to figure this out, isall. Ya might think a garden is _no big dill_ but it's trickier than it looks. Ok, watering next, mind fetchin' me the hose? It's 'round the side there," Sans gestured to a small work shed behind the cabin, and Grillby lay the shovel down to walk over. The hose was heavy and Grillby found it difficult to maintain his grace as he dragged it over the grass. 

"Papyrus doesn't help you with this at all?"

"Nah, he's got his own stuff to do. What day is it-- WAIT," he raised a hand to stop Grillby before he could answer, "Don't tell me. It's....... Sunday. Today is Sunday. And it's September."

"That's right," Grillby confirmed, furrowing his brow in concern over how much concentration that simple answer seemed to require of Sans. Sans seemed visibly relieved. 

"Sunday, ok..." Sans pulled a small dayplanner from his pocket and leafed through the pages. Grillby noticed that there were marks and scribbles, all in Sans' hand, sometimes notes aggressively scratched out, with a number of forward pointing arrows and calculations of dates. Sans finally arrived at a spread that seemed to satisfy him. "Sunday, yeah. Yeah, paps is recording today, we can't bug him until 3 or so."

"Recording?" Grillby raised an eyebrow.

"Yeh, his youtube thing," Sans waved a hand absently as he twisted the shower attachment onto the end of the hose, "He posts a couple 'o times a week."

"About _what_?" 

"Oh, whatever he wants I guess. It's kinda like a vlog? He talks about fashion and cars and toys and... well all sorts of stuff. It's got a pretty good following, eh, it's got... what was it you called it... 'niche appeal'. Hehe... well it makes him happy, that's what matters." Sans moved slowly through the garden, carefully monitoring each plant as the water soaked into the soil. 

Grillby gazed up at the second storey windows where he imagined Papyrus' room to be. He couldn't see anything inside. _Youtube? Really?_

"Hang on..." Sans, let the hose droop as he stared at the horizon, piecing something together. "Sunday, September. Sunday..."

Sans clamped the hose's valve shut and examined a battered digital casio on his wrist. He leafed through the dayplanner again, paging forward and back from the current date (marked clearly by the torn off tabs in the corner) and scribbled some notes to form his own conclusion.

"Right," Sans snapped the dayplanner shut in triumph, beaming at Grillby, "We need flour. There's storage in the shed, mind finding it for me?"

"Sure..." again Grillby stalked away to the shed to satisfy this mundane request, leaving a cheerful Sans to continue with his watering. The inside of the cabin was a bit musty but clean and cool - a perfect outdoor pantry. The shelves were neatly organized with bags of dry goods - beans and rice, pasta (goodness so much pasta), various canned goods, powdered milk, sugar, and ah-- flour.

Grillby heaved a bag off the upper shelf, and re-emerged into the afternoon sunshine. 

Sans dropped the hose and practically sauntered over to greet him, "Great! Flour! Ok." He flipped the dayplanner open again, "We have flour, and tomorrow we can head to town to get more milk and eggs. It's Sunday, that'll be Monday, then everything's ready for Tuesday. And Tuesday..."

Sans leaned expectantly over to Grillby, whose arms were growing weary from this giant bag of flour. Grillby stared at him blankly, unable to provide the response he was after. Finally Sans acquiesced.

"Tuesday is pancake day!!" Sans' grin nearly took over his whole face as he snapped the dayplanner shut. He was planning _three days ahead_ and he was so proud of the fact that he was able to keep it all straight. Last year, even, this would have been too much for him. Papyrus would be thrilled when he opened the cupboards to find everything in order, knowing that Sans had done his part.   
Grillby continued to stare blankly. The achievement was completely lost on him, and Sans' grin soon faltered again. Embarrassment crept in, darkening his cheeks as the skeleton averted his gaze. 

"Uh... just go take it inside, ok?" Sans stuffed the dayplanner back into his pockets and trudged back to the garden, "Leave it on the counter or something, I'll put it away later."

Grillby could sense that something had gone wrong awry, but for the life of him he couldn't tease it apart. He turned slowly and made his way back into the cabin. When he had fully disappeared around the corner, Sans let his shoulders slump. He stared at the roots of the plants as they darkened with water, feeling his cheeks grow hot in humiliation. 

 _Well why should he care,_ Sans berated himself again, _any idiot can plan three days ahead. Any idiot but me._ His eyes stung; more tears. _Really???_   
  
Sans tossed the hose down in frustration, this time he didn't even bother to shut the valve, and he didn't care that the growing puddle might drown the chives. _Idiot. IDIOT._ He sank to the ground, cross-legged, and pressed his palms into his eyesockets. _Breathe, buddy. Breathe._  
  
He reflexively pulled a cigarette from his secretive coat pocket, and lit it in a swift, practiced motion. Breathe.

The white, fluffy dog emerged from the forest's edge, as if summoned by Sans' emanating waves of frustration. Sans welcomed the creature with vigorous scratches, and the beast didn't object when he brought it close for a hug. Paps was right, Sans thought to himself, breathing in smoke through his teeth and letting it vent wherever it wanted. _This is a bad idea. Any idiot can keep track of the fucking month, and any idiot can tell this is a bad idea._

Knowing something's a bad idea and stopping yourself from it are two separate skills, Sans realized in defeat.

_Any idiot but me._


	10. In Which Grillby Gets a Telling-To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta level with you...

Grillby entered the kitchen and was relieved to find no signs of life (or un-life). As requested, he placed the bag of flour gently on the countertop, and then stood back, trying to determine his next move. Should he go back outside? Sans seemed upset, but why? This was such a simple thing. 

He needed... a break. He crossed to the front door, the side of the cabin opposite the garden. Closing the door behind him, and pressing his back against it, he pulled the cigarette he'd snuck from Sans' stash out of the overall pocket. Touching a finger to the end to light it, he let the caustic smoke fill him before releasing it with a satisfying sigh. He'd quit ages ago but being around Sans had dragged up so many old feelings, the urge got dragged up along with it. 

Calmed, he looked around and nearly had a heart attack when he realized that Papyrus was also leaned up against the cabin's front wall, smoke gently billowing from a cigarette of his own. 

It was almost too much to process.

"Well," Grillby decided to take charge and break the silence this time, "Why don't we all just smoke together then?"

"Don't you DARE tell Sans," Papyrus threatened. Papyrus had changed his clothes, too, and was in an incredibly clashy ensemble of lime green stripes and pink-and-black houndstooth. A bright yellow scarf somehow tied it all together, and Grillby was actually kind of impressed. He supposed this was an outfit for his... _Youtube_? (This is all too strange.)

Grillby sighed. "...Sans doesn't know."

"Of _course_ not," Papyrus lifted the cigarette but decided to continue talking instead of smoking it, "Besides I don't smoke _nearly_ as much as he does. And yes, I know he smokes. He knows I know he smokes. But I don't think he knows that I know he knows I know."

Grillby was confused, and this whole plan had _backfired_. He'd wanted a break and now here he was subject to a talking-to from the planet's most _psychotic_ living skeleton.

"You can't live so closely with someone and not have things of your own," Papyrus was chattering a mile a minute, waving the unsmoked cigarette around wildly to punctuate his ravings, "It's unhealthy. Sometimes I just-- listen, I don't need to justify myself to you!! SO DON'T TELL HIM!!!" 

Grillby held his hands up defensively, "I'm not judging you, Papyrus. I'm not a threat. Sans and I are friends, maybe someday we can be friends, too." 

"FEH," Papyrus snorted. He started rubbing the crest of his eyesocket with his thumb-knuckle. "Grillby, I just--- I can't wrap my head around what you're trying to achieve here. Is it _just_ the sex? Or are you trying to soften your survivor's guilt? Either way you're _using_ him and _that's_ what I can't stand. I really wish I could give you more credit than that, but I'm not sure I can. Yesterday, maybe, but not now."

 _That. Stung._ Grillby took refuge in his neglected cigarette, hoping it would camouflage his building rage. 

"You can't seriously want him back, can you?" Papyrus' eyes were almost pleading.

Grillby didn't have an answer. 

Papyrus sighed, and finally took a drag of his own cigarette (Grillby had begun to wonder whether Papyrus even knew how to smoke). "I mean... how many times have we been _through_ this Grillby? You hook up, you break up... I'm the one stuck picking up his pieces."

Grillby still didn't have an answer, and decided he was out here on _his own_ smoke break. This crazy guy was just sharing his oxygen. Even so, the words were a bit too sharp, a bit too true. It took everything he had to keep the rage in check, and by now he was sure he _wasn't_ camouflaging it well. 

Papyrus studied him for a moment, and then (thankfully) returned to his own quiet smoke break. 

It only lasted about a minute before Papyrus decided he'd had enough. He snuffed the remaining half-cigarette out on the brick of the front wall and dropped the evidence down the most narrow crack in the patio, vanishing it to some darkness unknown. 

Grillby shuffled out of the way as Papyrus moved to pry open the front door. He stopped before entering, leaning his head on the door's edge and gazing sadly at the blazing interloper.

"He's always been in love with you," Papyrus' guard-dog demeanor had faded, leaving only a puppy-dog behind. Grillby's rage melted into shame, and his face grew hotter. Seeing he'd get no answer from the fire, Papyrus closed his eyes and sighed once again. "Maybe you should stay. After all...you both have a _remarkable inability to foresee consequences._ "

Papyrus forced his eyes open, glaring daggers at Grillby before swishing himself through the door, shutting it firmly behind him. 

 _Ouch_.


	11. In Which the Outside World Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday Callers :)

The living room was dim, but brightened by Grillby's presence. No matter where he went on this property he had begun to feel intolerably out-of-place. _Who does he think he is, telling me off like that,_ Grillby simmered, clenching his fists rigidly by his sides. _I'm just here to say hi, to support Sans and he--!!_ There was nowhere safe to vent this. He pulled his phone out of the _disgusting_ front pocket and brushed off the debris. A quick search later, he was scrolling through Papyrus' youtube page -- it did exist after all. He almost dropped his phone in shock. Hundreds of comments on every video. _T-two hundred thousand subscribers???_

He adjusted his glasses to make sure he was reading that correctly, but his investigation was cut short when the back door opened. As Sans sighed his way through to the kitchen, stomping his feet roughly on the mat outside to dislodge any fugitive soil, Grillby quickly dropped the phone back into the pocket and grabbed whatever was closeby. The object of his feigned consideration happened to be a framed photograph of Sans, Papyrus and Frisk. 

Sans trudged over and peered into Grillby's hands to see what he was holding. Noticing the photo, he grinned and returned to the kitchen, pulling a pair of mugs down from the lowest shelf to fix himself some tea. 

"How old are they now?" Grillby asked. The photograph seemed recent and this Frisk barely resembled the tiny, scruffy but confident and charming child that had shambled into the underground all those years ago. They towered over Sans now, and their height seemed almost level with Papyrus. They might even outgrow him, soon. 

"Uhhhh," Sans had to concentrate. More time-math. _Six years, so..._ "Fifteen."

“Fifteen," Grillby exhaled and a natural coil of smoke drifted up to the ceiling before fading away. "Same as Heats, eh. I guess they're in the same class."

"Maybe," Sans shrugged. He wasn't really involved in Frisk's life to that level of detail. He returned to the living room with two mugs of tea, but once again Grillby refused. Sans set the spare mug lazily on the nearest surface and collapsed into the closest easychair. From the weight of the motion, Grillby was almost surprised Sans didn't collapse entirely into a pile of bones. Maybe some things still haven't changed. 

"We really owe them. For all of this," Grillby now actively considered the group photo and the profound impact Frisk's arrival had had on all of their lives. "So much responsibility and they've barely started high school."

"Yup," Sans was looking lazily out the window, and Grillby was a bit taken aback by his dismissiveness. 

"You... you don't _trust_ them, do you?" Grillby crossed over to the easychair opposite the slumped-over skeleton. 

"Frisk is great," Sans clarified, tapping his temple, "I just remember all the not!Frisks I dealt with, that's all. Gets mixed up sometimes."

Sans closed his eyes and he could feel his teeth gritting against each other. Even talking about it still put him on edge and he did his best to constrain his anxiety. 

"Are you worried they'll Reset someday?" Grillby prodded. 

"No." Sans was firm, but soon faltered. "Well.... sometimes."  
Sans stared out the window. From this vantage point there was an unobstructed view of the mountain where they were all once entombed.

"Heck..." Sans was barely audible, "If it meant gettin' a second shot at alla this? Heh, buddy....there's days I'm _hopin_ ' for it."

Grillby's chest felt tight and Sans seemed more distant than he'd ever been, but life interrupted in the form of a call notification on a laptop nestled in the corner of the room. Sans leapt out of the easychair with uncharacteristic speed and dove for the answer button. 

Instantly, Toriel's beaming goat-like features filled the laptop's screen. "Hey there, _bone daddy,_ " Toriel cooed as she continued to fidget awkwardly with the camera's position. Switching the camera between herself and Frisk always required a bit of adjustment, but finally she was able to find a level that she could accept. 

"Heyyyy there _goat-momma_ , heh, Sunday already, I didn't forget!" Sans grinned casually. "What're you up to today, everything holdin' up over there?"

"Still keepin' on," Toriel cradled her face in her hands lovingly and smiled, "Frisk has a track meet next week, so we need to get all their school reports finished early."

Frisk peeked into the background of the video and waved vigorously, and Sans waved back, "Heheh, ahh you got this kiddo, you were always good at dodgin'. Dodge--that's a track thing, right?"

Frisk stuck their tongue out at the video and Toriel laughed. She returned her attention to the video feed just in time to catch a glimpse of Grillby trying to shift himself out of the camera's line of sight. "W-wait... is that... _Grillby_?"

"Hey, yeah, come say hi, Grillbz!" Sans beckoned the embarrassed fire man into view and Grillby waved at the feed, sheepishly. He tried his hardest to pretend that he wasn't dressed like some kind of blind farmer. Sans didn't even register his reluctance. "Heheh, G just dropped in to say hi an' hang for awhile. Cool, eh? Or, er, hot I guess."

"That's _soooo greaaaaat!_ " Toriel grinned so widely she feared her cheeks would split. She fumbled to send a text offscreen. "Good to see you, Grillby, you look... quite well? I hope you're enjoying the fresh air, it's so beautiful up there, isn't it?"

"Yes it's... it's lovely," Grillby returned the platitudes.

Papyrus had crept into the kitchen after he heard the incoming call ring, and was monitoring the conversation from a distance. The phone in his pocket buzzed and he pulled open his texts.

TORIEL: "WTFFFFFFFFF"

Papyrus rolled the lights in his eyesockets and mashed out a reply:

PAPYRUS: "I KNOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW >___<"

On-screen, Toriel's phone buzzed with the reply. She glanced at it quickly and set it down. "So, how long are you staying?"

"Not sure," Grillby crossed his arms and Sans looked back at him, expectantly,

"Uh, I guess we'll play it by ear?"

"Ohh but Grillby," Toriel bared her teeth as widely as she could and wiggled her flopping ears, "Neither of you _have ears_!"

Sans and Toriel burst into mutual laughter, and Grillby chuckled quietly, beads of sweat forming and evaporating instantaneously. 


	12. Involves Some Quiche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiches and Apologies

Evening crept in and they gathered casually in the kitchen. Grillby had offered to do the dishes since Papyrus had cooked both evenings, and anyway he definitely had a long road to travel before he could even glimpse that guy's fabled "good side". He scraped the remnants of the spinach quiche from the plates and was grateful that the skeletons stocked good, thick dish gloves. (Snuffing yourself out by accident when you're trying to do someone a favour is so embarrassing.)

“This was delicious, Papyrus,” Grillby offered.

“..thank you,” Papurus’ reply was guarded. The brothers sat quietly around the table, each cradling a mug of the constantly-flowing tea. This seemed normal and peaceful, and Grillby felt like an intruder again.

“I-- I really mean it, I'm quite impressed,” Grillby continued, focusing intently on a stubborn piece of burnt-on crust in the pan, “I'd hire you for our kitchen in a heartbeat.”

“I already _have_ a job, Grillby.” Papyrus’ reply froze in the air, unimpeded by Sans’ warning glare.

Grillby set aside the scrub-brush and turned slowly, realizing his mistake. “Of course. Papyrus… I owe you an apology. Both of you, actually. It was careless of me to arrive unannounced. I didn't really understand what you were doing out here. And-- well, I'm not sure I _quite_ understand yet, but I can see how much it means to Sans.”

Papyrus sighed, his guard-dog veneer cracking slightly. “It's fine, it's not like we advertise it.”

“Heh, and it's not like I'm a _vegetable_ , or whatever.” Sans continued, “Just need some time to get used to…...time.”

Grillby peeled off the dishgloves and leaned against the counter. “How many times did it happen? The, er… ‘Resets’?”

Sans snorted in reply, “Who knows. Lost count.”

“Well…” Grillby scratched the back of the flames that stretched over his head, “How long did it... _feel_? In... years, I guess?”

Sans leaned forward in concentration, and his brother studied him carefully. Grillby was taken aback. Maybe Papyrus had never asked in quite that way before?

“Ehhh…” Sans rubbed his forehead, pushing the toque up slightly as he squeezed one eye shut. The information seemed almost painful to extract. “It all kinda blends together, yanno? Years, huh….. Fif-teeeeeen?...Maybe tw--”

Sans cut himself short the moment he spotted the horror that shot across Papyrus’ face. He looked over to find it on Grillby's face as well. He knew the expression well, it showed up whenever he shared more of the truth than someone was ready for.

_Oh well, don't say that next time, ok?_

_….oh._


	13. ...Just Doesn't Go Well At All, Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Company

Grillby found Sans on the porch, another cigarette nestled between his fingers. Papyrus, ever the early riser, had turned in an hour ago, and Sans was once again transfixed by the stars. Grillby tapped Sans' arm with a tumbler of whisky as he slid gracefully into the spot on the railing beside him. He held a matching tumbler of his own.

“Ah, no thanks,” Sans refused the glass, “I, er… I don't, anymore.”

“Come on, Sans, this is the _good_ stuff. Besides,” Grillby plucked the lit cigarette from Sans’ fingers, claiming it as his own, “If I can indulge in a former bad habit, so can you. Just tonight.”

Sans sighed and pulled another cigarette from his jacket pocket. Before he could strike his lighter, Grillby lifted Sans' chin to light the cigarette with a kiss. The intimacy of the gesture caught Sans off guard, and he accepted the whiskey reflexively when it was pushed into his hands a second time. Grillby smiled and leaned onto the railing, casually letting the smoke fill him and then billow away. _Old friends._

Sans returned to himself and chuckled, realizing how well he'd been played. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass, considering it only briefly before pouring some back. He could barely stretch himself up to the railing Grillby could nearly step over.

And so, together, they pondered the stars, and the trees, and the moonlight that reflected on the grass as it was disturbed by the wind.

 _Twenty years_ , Grillby remembered. _A prison sentence._ Given Sans’ previously-demonstrated struggles accounting for the passage of time, Grillby shuddered to think what the true number may have been.

“Sans…”

“Hm?”

“I regret how I treated you… back then. I didn't appreciate you, I was so wrapped up in my own problems.”

“Ahh, G, you've got nothin’ to be sorry for. Heh, you were there for me whenever I needed you most-- more times than I could count.”

Sans dragged on the fresh cigarette, but caught Grillby's perplexed expression out of the corner of his eye and choked the smoke out in surprise.

“Heh, you don't remember. Right. It’s ok, I work so hard to remember stuff now that I forget how much everyone, uh… _forgot_.”

“What do you mean?” Grillby shifted, “Sans… What don't I remember?”

“Oh, lots,” Sans finished the whisky and stared at the bottom of the glass. A knot was forming deep in his ribcage. _Don't say it,_ the fledgling voice of reason echoed in his skull. _Stop talking. St--_ “Every time Paps died, you were there for me. I wanted to give up so many times, but you were always there.”

“Papyrus… died?”

“Sure…” Sans couldn't look at Grillby. He drew more smoke with every breath. He couldn't stop talking. “Heh... he died so often I sorta got numb to it. But not just him, right? Lots of people... even I died a bunch. Heheh. You're such an upstanding citizen, though. Whenever it got really bad you usually helped organize the Snowdin evacuation or whatever, but even you died sometimes. Those were bad times.”

Grillby couldn't process this, and Sans was now anxiously twitching his leg. He seemed to be trying to reach the bottom of his cigarette as quickly as possible.

"I know we had our blowouts, but it wasn't _all bad_ between us, was it? It wasn't for me, anyways. I could always _talk_ to you, G. I miss that."

_Stop. Please. Don't say this. There's no going back._

"Y'know we moved in together once?" Sans turned to Grillby and grinned. "Heh, just once. I'll never forget it.  I kept it together _just long enough_ to get you to put up with me, and it was just... _nice,_ y'know?"

Sans used the remnants of the dying cigarette to light another. Meanwhile, the heat was draining steadily from Grillby's face.

"That reset was _hard_ , man. Heheh... I totally lost it. I came into the bar ready to turn everything over, cryin'... you had _no idea_ what I was on about."

Sans was still grinning, but the expression was strained, and tears had started to tumble from his eyesockets. Grillby's cigarette was all but forgotten; it had burned itself out. He was as close as a fire could get to being frozen.

"I tried for _ages_ to get that back. Never could manage it," the light in Sans' eyes went dim. "... and now I never will."

Sans was staring straight ahead, encased in stony silence. The tears fell freely now, but he didn't make a sound, nor a gesture to stop them. Grillby's head was spinning. He set his glass down and stretched a trembling hand to Sans' back. The moment he was touched, Sans seemed to snap out of his frozen state and he buried himself in Grillby's chest, clinging to him so tightly Grillby wasn't sure he could keep breathing.

Grillby closed his arms around him, slowly,

and he was deeply

_deeply_

uncomfortable.


	14. ...ends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On days like this... men like you..._
> 
> Thanks for your patience everyone while I transferred all of this over from tumblr ^^; (some of my readers there requested it)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed all the sadness, don't worry it gets worse!

Sans woke slowly, squinting into the morning sun. Birds were singing. Outside his window he could see Mt. Ebbott.

_Outside. Right._

He turned over and realized he was alone. It took him several moments to realize _why_ he shouldn't be alone. 

The autumn air was so unbearably cold.   
  
~*~*~

Downstairs, Papyrus looked out over the driveway. Grillby's car was gone. On the breakfast table was a neatly folded card, with a single word scrawled onto it.

_Sorry._


End file.
